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There is something about sharing space with forty girls for a year that forges beautiful friendships.

“Lord, I want to be known deeply.” My sophomore year of college I desperately prayed this prayer over and over again. Living in the Chi O house is where this became a reality. Girls I had known, some better than others, since freshman year all living under the same roof and eating dinner at the same table every night. There was something so special and so rich about my time there.

Friendship, deep friendship, is hard to come by and I was surrounded by it. I had a roommate (shout out to Ashlyn Cobb) who wouldn’t let me get away with just being “okay,” and would actively ask about and pray for my days. I am a better friend to others because she was a great friend to me.

There were new friendships that spurred from morning chats in the bathroom and shared rides to class. There were old friendships, steady and understanding in nature, that were reinforced. My time there was special and it was rich, all because of the women that were around me.

Shauna Niequist says in her book Bittersweet, “Everybody has a home team: It’s the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It’s the people who, near or far, know everything that’s wrong with you and love you anyways. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they’re at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people.”